Here, Let Me Help You With That
by thisismeafterdark
Summary: James comes back from Quidditch practise only to find that Lily is in need of assistance in... certain areas. M for a reason, etc. etc.


_A/N: This is my first time writing smut (though not my first time writing LJ) so please no harsh reviews okay? I'm trying my bestest ;)_

**Here, Let Me Help You With That**

Quidditch practise had been long and hard, and James was tired when he made his way back to the Heads' Common Room that night; tired but not overly exhausted and looking forward to spending the evening with Lily. They had agreed on a quiet night in – after two months of him dragging her around the castle, showing it to her in ways she had never seen before (and making sure to get all the broom closets on the way), it was clearly in order.

It seemed, however, that doing homework in the common room wasn't _quite_ what Lily had in mind.

When he reached the common room, the first thing that struck him was its emptiness. Lily had agreed to wait for him there; it wasn't like her to be late.

The second thing was the odd sound coming from behind one of the closed doors. It was truly like nothing James had ever heard before, a cross between gasping, crying and, strangely enough, moaning. Tentatively, he crossed to the door, realising with a jolt that it lead to Lily's room. His mind jumping to all kinds of conclusions, he pushed the door open...

Only to be greeted with the sight of Lily lying on the bed on her back, completely naked. Her face was bright red, one hand clamped between her legs (some ancient defence reflex had slammed them shut at the sound of the door opening) and the other clutching a book, titled... he moved his head very slightly to the left, attempting to catch the title. Aha. There it was. _Making Yourself Scream: The Fastest Roads To Self-Pleasure_. If the highly embarrassed yet more than slightly disgruntled look on Lily's face was anything to go by, she wasn't having too much luck with that. A sly grin spread across his face as he began walking towards her. "Here," he said, kicking off his shoes. "Let me help you with that." Reaching the bed, he sat down, gently prying the book from her grasp. "No need for that now." He entwined his fingers with hers, leaning down until their noses touched. "Hi," he whispered, and then there was no more time for talking as he bent down those final few centimetres until finally their lips touched.

Lily reacted instantly, pulling her hands from their various places and winding them around his neck. Her tongue poked at his mouth, biting, begging for entrance that was soon granted. She fumbled at hisneck, following the collar of his really very bothersome shirt to the buttons, where she tried in vain to open them before growing impatient and merely tearing the shirt off the the best of her abilities. Obediently James tore the rest of it open and shrugged it off, tossing it somewhere to the side where it joined the forgotten book on the floor. His hands trailed their way up her sides, sending all sorts of shivers throughout her body, and she let her hands drift _their_ way up _his_ sides, and he closed his eyes. Lily took advantage of the situation, slowly taking her hands lower and lower until they reached the top of his trousers. She fiddled with the button, growing more and more impatient and careless until finally it slipped undone. Her fingers wasted no time in hooking themselves in his belt loops and pulling down, down down...

He got the message and kicked them off, all the way off, squirming back into his position above her with ease. He was once more staring at her with a forgotten intensity, one that hadn't much reared it's (not so ugly) head since their explosive arguments had tapered off into the explosive relationship they were currently in. Lily wondered whether _this_ was on his mind every time he looked at her that way and blushed. He kissed the very tops of her cheekbones. "You're so cute when you blush, you know," he managed to get out, though they were both breathing rather heavily by then and his hands were at the current moment making their feather-light way to her breasts. They found their target easily, eliciting Merlin knows what kind of sounds from Lily. His mouth lowered to join his hands, still moving, moving, moving, and those sounds got louder, more frantic, if that was possible. Her hands were tangling in his hair and she was pulling him closer, closer, his hands were moving down, down, down and she gasped when he reached the spot he was looking for, gasped and dragged his face up to hers, pulling his lips to hers with a new-found urgency; yet his fingers still moved, inside her now, and she moaned into his mouth, moaned and gasped and pulled him closer, always closer.

She pulled him closer, and he moved his fingers again, twisted them and twirled them, and swallowed her moans, giving her some of his own, moving his lips down off her face and towards her shoulder, and her moans were no longer being swallowed so they echoed throughout her room, and he was, in passing, glad of the fact they shared their quarters with no one else, as that sound would have been hard to explain away, but he didn't particularly care, as long as it existed, and he was the one to cause it, and so he pushed the thoughts away, to the back of his mind, storing the memory of her moans away to be taken out and remembered later, much later, when she wasn't there but he wanted, needed, to feel this way again, if just for the shortest of moments; he stowed them away and returned his attention to her, only her, always her. Her hands had left his face, they were trailing down his chest, making him shiver in the most wonderful way, and it was _his_ turn to gasp as _her_ hands made contact with him, only him, he could feel every groove of her fingers as they moved, _oh Merlin_ but they moved, and then suddenly they stopped; he let out a sound that was possibly supposed to be indignant but ended up small and needy, so needy, and with a wry grin she began her wicked movement again, until it abruptly changed in direction, in purpose, she was pulling _him_ towards _her_ and he couldn't think of one single reason to stop her so he merely moaned again, so needy. He moaned, and gladly obliged her, it was her turn to make the most wonderful sounds, he filled her so completely, giving her exactly what she was looking for before he entered her room, the world contained none but the two of them, and then he began to move and _oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin, _all of her senses were filled by him, only him, always him; and when his hands came down and moved with him, moved inside her in the way that only he could, she finally screamed, clutching his hair and thanking Merlin that he existed because no one and no book could ever make her feel the way he did.

_LOPPU_

_A/N2: Whoa. That was... weird. Let me tell you, writing this stuff is harder than you'd think._

_I'm not sure whether I like this or not... Let me know ;)_

_Oh, and the writing style is intentional. If it can be called a writing style. You know, all the repetition and million-word-sentences and whatnot._


End file.
